


The Son He Never Wanted

by RobinStories



Series: Beneath the Masks [2]
Category: Batman (1966), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Cock & Ball Torture, Consensual Underage Sex, Dubious Consent, Extremely Underage, F/M, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation, Mindfuck, Multi, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spanking, Torture, Torture of a minor, Underage Rape/Non-con, Urination, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:13:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21860731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinStories/pseuds/RobinStories
Summary: Robin encounters Harley Quinn and some thugs after his ordeal on the rooftop with joker of which he has no memory. What happens when precious secrets become known...This is related slightly to when Tim Drake was captured and tortured by the Joker and Harley, but with my own evil twists...
Relationships: Batman/Robin, Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson/Harleen Quinzel, Dick Grayson/Joker (DCU), Dick Grayson/Original Character(s), Dick Grayson/Original Female Character(s), Dick Grayson/Original Male Character(s), Joker/Robin (DCU), Robin/Harley Quinn, Robin/Original Character(s), Robin/Original Male Character
Series: Beneath the Masks [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574272
Comments: 5
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to So Many Precious Secrets. Robin is 13, deal with it. I regret nothing and everything.
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated!

It had been a week since Robin had awoken on a rooftop in downtown Gotham. His head ached but he had no memory as to how he got there. He had slowly stood up and got his bearings, but the area was quiet and deserted. He checked everything and he seemed to be fine. His butt was a bit sore but he assumed he'd fallen and hit his head and backside. He didn't like the memory gap, but the teenaged hero didn't seem to be harmed or missing anything, so he tried to shrug it off. Bruce's overnight business trip had been unexpectedly expanded to several weeks. Some weird currency thing in China which Dick didn't understand or care to. He'd taken a few nights off after his mystery night just to make sure everything was "working" correctly. Then, he'd resumed his patrols in direct violation to Bruce's orders. 

He had a successful night the day before he decided to return to the same area he'd awoken in. A group of thugs had tried to rob a jewelry store and despite their size, Dick had managed to defeat them. This gave him the confidence to return. He swung from rooftop to rooftop, enjoying the summer air which had gotten a bit cooler over the past few days. Dick was glad of this as he'd contemplated going tights-less if the heat had continued. 

He perched his small, lithe body on the rooftop opposite where he'd awoken and scanned the area. After a few days of thinking, he assumed he must've gotten into with some criminals or been tracking some and fallen. Either way, there was something about this spot. 

As he surveyed the area, he heard a high-pitched voice in the alley below to his left. He was startled slightly, but stealthily moved over to that ledge to investigate. He peered cautiously over the edge and beheld a familiar figure in the alley. She was clad tightly in a skin-tight suit with a jester hat on. Harley Quinn. She was talking with two massive thugs and seemed upset. Robin listened as carefully as he could. 

"These shipments have to make it tonight or Mista J isn't gonna be happy!" she yelled at the goons. Robin gulped. Anything involving the Joker was dangerous. He was the most feared villain for Robin at least. Unpredictable and deadly. And Harley was just as bad. If the goons had been a bit smaller, Robin would have jumped down and taken all three. However, their size and Harley's insanity, to put it mildly, made him wait. If he could separate them, he could take Harley alone and then the thugs, or vice versa. Harley required his complete attention. 

He continued to watch as the massive thugs moved containers around. They were stacking things near the mouth of the alley, most likely waiting for a truck. Harley looked impatient, but Robin couldn't help stare at her. She was objectively attractive, despite her evilness, and her figure was perfectly outlined in her costume. Robin's young, teenaged hormones began to awaken slightly, but he quickly suppressed it. These feelings were relatively new, but Robin was learning how to control them. After all, it only caused him to be distracted. Nothing else...at least not that he knew of.

His masked eyes widened as he watched the thugs finally move away. They headed back down the alley and disappeared. Robin took out a small scanner and pointed it down. According to the readings, it was only Harley now. It was now or never. He secured a grapple hook and descended rapidly, aiming to land behind Harley with enough distance to avoid an initial attack or object hurled at him. She was near the mouth of the alley looking at the stacked boxes and crates. 

His pixie boots hit the alley floor hard and he released the grappler as he landed in a crouched position. Harley turned around startled, her own eyes masked and her face painted white. Robin's gloved hand went quickly to his belt for a batarang. It was halfway out when Harley smiled and cried out. 

"Dickie!"

Robin's face drained of all color and probably was as white as Harley's. His hand was frozen, the batarang still half-tucked in his belt. 

"If it isn't little Dickie Grayson! How are ya puddin'?" she squealed, smiling broadly as Robin was frozen to the ground. His knees were slightly bent as he'd rose from the crouched position to throw the batarang. 

"I...uh....don't know what...who...you mean," Robin stuttered, his voice high as he was unable to make it sound low. He hated that his voice hadn't changed yet. Normally he could make it sound a bit lower, but he couldn't think at all right now. He kept his hand on the batarang. He wanted to throw it, but what was he going to do? Kill her? If he captured her, she knew his identity. How did she know? Robin's mind raced as Harley smiled wickedly.

"No, I'm pretty sure I got the info correct, sweetie," she said. She reached for a clipboard nearby and flipped a paper, pretending like she had information about him on it. "Yeah, it says it right here. Robin, the Boy Wonder, real identity Dick Grayson, ward of Bruce Wayne who's really Batman. He's 13, a virgin, has a small dick, and no hair on his little body except a little around his small dick. He likes to be spanked by older men and have older men suck his little dick. He also likes to suck dick." She emphasized every "dick" in her little exposition.

Robin's face would've been dark red if there was any color left in it. His ears were ringing and blood was pounding in them. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. He was nauseous, trembling. She knew. How did she know? How could she possibly know all of that? And what was she talking about? Getting spanked? Sucking dick? The mere thought made Robin more nauseous. 

Harley began laughing maniacally as she looked at Robin's petrified and frozen figure. 

"Yeah, Mista J told me all about your little encounter with him. Great story, really compelling!" she said. 

Robin was so distracted that he didn't hear the approaching footsteps behind him. The two thugs had returned and each grabbed one of Robin's smooth, small arms. Robin's right arm removed the batarang fully from his belt as he now struggled feebly against their massive grips. 

"Drop it, kid," the one holding his right arm said in a deep voice. He squeezed Robin's arm so tightly that Robin cried out in pain and dropped the batarang with a clang. 

"Oh, careful boys! Mista J wouldn't want anything to happen to the wittle boy wonder!" Harley squealed. She walked slowly towards Robin who struggled and grimaced in the vice grips of the thugs. "Now, let's see if I remember what Mista J said. They should be....here!" she said. She had leaned down and opened a compartment on Robin's utility belt. A pair of batcuffs came out. "Thanks for not re-arranging your utility belt, puddin'," she said, pinching Robin's cheek. 

Robin gritted his teeth and renewed his feeble struggle as Harley walked around him. The thugs pulled his arms easily behind his narrow waist and Harley locked the cuffs on him. 

"Let me go you vile vixen!" Robin cried.

"Hey now! No name calling!" Harley cried back from behind the Boy Wonder. She smacked his cape-covered ass as she said that. Robin yelped slightly as she hit quite hard. "I tell you what," she said to the thugs, "these little boy sidekicks need to learn manners." Robin felt her lift his short, yellow cape up slightly, revealing his tight, green briefs. She then let it drop and walked back in front of the now-cuffed Robin. She sauntered over to a nearby crate, swinging her hips slowly and Robin's masked eyes couldn't help but follow the sway back and forth. She sat down, facing the still-struggling Robin. 

"Bring him over here, boys!" she squealed. "Let's teach the kid some manners! I know he likes it! Mista J told me so!"

The thugs easily picked Robin up off the ground and carried him over to Harley. His booted feet flailed in the air but every kick that landed did no damage to the massive goons. They plopped him down and Harley reached up and roughly grabbed a fistful of his brown hair. Robin cried out in pain as she easily brought him down across her lap. He was shocked by how strong she really was. 

"Now you get your spanking, little boy," she said, mimicking a scolding parent. She pushed his cape to the side, revealing again his tight briefs. Then, she pulled his briefs down, much to Robin's absolute shock and horror. He cried out in protest but was immediately changed to crying out in pain as she began to swat his ass, now covered only in his flesh-colored tights. "Teehee! Look how it jiggles just a bit!" Harley cried out with glee. Robin's feet flailed but it was no use. She had him locked in on her lap, his briefs pulled down just in the back which also pushed his ass up just a bit, giving her a slightly bigger target. Then, she yanked the tights down as well, exposing his smooth and rapidly reddening ass to the goons and the night hair. The smacks continued unabated as tears and cries came from the struggling sidekick. 

Then, as suddenly as she'd started, she stopped and rolled the Boy Wonder off of her lap. Robin hit the ground hard and groaned as his cuffed hands went to cover his exposed and red behind. He managed to grab and pull up his tights and briefs and roll onto his back. He looked up into the face of Harley, who was leaning down and right in his face. 

"I hoped you learned your lesson, young man," she said smiling, wagging a finger in his face. "Now we have to finish our work here and I'm pretty sure it's past your bedtime." Before Robin could react, she sprayed some purple gas into his young face and immediately he passed out. She looked down at the limp figure of the young teenager, dressed rather skimpily. She thought about what the Joker had told her about his chance encounter with Robin a week ago. 

She pulled out her phone and called him, letting him know what had happened and that it was true that Robin had no memory of their meeting. As they were talking, the truck arrived and two more goons got out and began to help the other two load the boxes. When they were finished, Harley hung up the phone and nodded to the two goons that were there originally. One reached down and unclasped the utility belt from Robin's narrow waist. He tossed it into a nearby dumpster before tossing Robin himself into the back of the truck. Robin rolled and skidded until he hit the crates rather unceremoniously. He didn't make a noise as he was out cold. Harley then hopped up into the back and pulled down the door. The truck rumbled away into the night. 

In the back, Harley turned on an overhead light to illuminate the trailer. She smiled an evil smile as she looked down at the slowly-breathing sidekick. The Joker was very pleased with what she found and was waiting to greet them when the truck arrived.


	2. Chapter 2

Dick woke up violently. He sat up quickly, hands out to the side to brace himself. The comforter of his king bed was bunched at the foot because of the summer temperatures and his small body was only covered with the top sheet. The sheet folded down across his waist as his blue eyes were wide and stared across the dark bedroom. His smooth, slightly toned chest rose and fell quickly as he breathed very hard and very fast. Sweat glistened on his smooth face, his brown hair was matted with sweat, and droplets were on his bare torso as well. The top sheet was wet with sweat as well and Dick, finally noticing that, threw it off of his body onto the rest of the empty bed.

He looked down at his lower body. His hairless legs were sticking straight ahead, a dark sweat stain extending from around them as well. His light-gray trunks, all he wore to bed and covering his private areas and the uppermost parts of his smooth thighs, were now dark gray from sweat. His breathing steadily began to slow as he took in the familiar surroundings of his bedroom. His eyes moved from side to side slowly, making sure he was indeed alone. The faintest of lights came through the split in the drawn curtains indicating dawn was rapidly approaching. 

Dick glanced at the digital clock on his bedside table and it read 6:28am. 

"Of course it's two minutes before my alarm goes off," Dick muttered. He was still shaken from the dream and couldn't believe how much he'd perspired because of it. He swung his smooth legs off the bed, shut off the alarm before it could go off, and immediately stripped off the damp trunks, leaving his young body naked. He held them up, and shook his head in disbelief at how wet they were. He draped them over the curtain rod of the shower in his bathroom so they could dry a bit before he put them in his laundry basket. 

While in the bathroom Dick took a long look at himself in the mirror. His eyes trailed over his naked body as they usually did, looking for any change. They dwelt for a longer moment on the very small patch of pubic hair which was his only sign of puberty. He made a face and then flexed in the mirror. His burgeoning muscles could easily be seen under his soft, smooth skin, and despite their smallness compared to Bruce's, any muscle tone made Dick feel like a strong man. Once he put on his Robin costume, he felt invincible. 

His body now dry from sweat, Dick walked back into his bedroom and grabbed a fresh pair of trunks, this time red, from his drawer. He snapped the waistband on his narrow hips and then pulled on some lounge pants. He re-settled himself on his bare feet and grabbed an old gray shirt that was a size too small. He hid it from Alfred who wanted to throw it out because it was too small. Dick liked it because it outlined his upper body a bit. For a 13-year-old, Dick was really only behind when it came to his voice not having changed and body hair being stubborn. Otherwise, he didn't have a bad figure and had visible tone that he flaunted whenever he could. 

Before he headed downstairs for breakfast, he sat on the edge of his bed and collected his thoughts. He couldn't shake the dream that had woken him so violently. It seemed so real: Harley, the goons, everything. Had he not woken up, he would've assumed it was total reality. But as he thought more about it, he smiled. It couldn't possibly be true because how would Harley know those personal things about his body? How would she know his identity? How would she know where things were in his belt? That's how dreams worked, he remembered Bruce telling him. Since they're in his mind, other people would "know" what he knows. The oddest part, though, was what she had said about him liking to get spanked and having his dick sucked. That had never happened...so why would his mind go there? Was it some kind of unconscious desire. 

Dick stood up and rubbed his tight ass slightly as he thought about the feeling of her spanking him in front of those goons. His face went red just thinking about it, although it never happened. He made the decision not to bring this up at breakfast and walked slowly out of his room. He padded down the hallway, sticking to the runner which felt nice and soft on his bare feet. He then slid down the bannister, knowing he wasn't supposed to, but trying to shake his mind to something better. 

"Master Dick!" came the scolding voice of Alfred. Dick slid off the end and his bare feet made a perfect gymnast landing. He smiled sheepishly at the old butler who stood a few feet from him, looking very angry. 

"Sorry, Alfred," Dick said with a slight grin. Alfred curled his lips in uncharacteristic anger. 

"You're always 'sorry'," Alfred sneered. Dick was taken slightly aback at the tenor of the butler's voice. "And I told you I want to get rid of that ratty old shirt!" he said, his voice raising slightly. Dick was not a little nervous.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I'll put it in the good will bin after breakfast," Dick said hastily. He started to walk past Alfred but the butler reached out like lightening and grabbed Dick by the throat. His grip was like a vice and Dick's hands went to Alfred's, desperately trying to release them, but he couldn't budge them. He tried to talk but only hoarse rasping came out. 

"I'll teach you the manners Master Bruce apparently has been neglecting," Alfred said. He dragged Dick to a nearby chair and sat down, pulling the struggling boy across his lap. 

"Alfred, what are you doing?!" Dick screamed as Alfred released his neck and held him close. Without answering, in one movement Alfred pulled down the lounge pants and red trunks, exposing Dick's smooth ass. He then brought down his hand hard, causing Dick to scream out. The pain was incredible and Alfred, without speaking, began to wallop Dick's ass over and over. 

"Alfred! Please stop! I'm sorry!" Dick cried, but Alfred didn't listen. Dick's legs flailed but he couldn't escape Alfred's lap as he swatted him about 30 times. When he was finished, he flipped Dick off his lap and Dick hit the floor hard. 

Dick's head shot up. His blue eyes were wide as he surveyed his surroundings. A channel of drool was leaking out of the corner of his mouth as he looked around the empty classroom of Gotham Academy. At the front, behind a large, imposing desk, sat Mrs. Saunders, the Dean of Students. She looked up from the magazine she was reading and made eye contact with Dick. 

"Try not to snore so loudly," she tisked before lowering her eyes back to the magazine. Dick slowly sat up in his chair. He was in his math classroom, but the afternoon sun was coming through the windows. The clock on the wall read 3:48. This was the detention classroom, but he couldn't remember why he was there. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to think, but all he could think about was the dream within a dream he'd just had. How long was he sleeping? The first dream had so much time before it he thought he could remember. He had dreamt it was summer, but the calendar on the wall said September. Dick felt so disoriented. 

"Mrs. Saunders, may I please use the restroom?" Dick asked, his voice shaking slightly. The Dean looked at the 8th grader with a raised eyebrow. 

"You've got 12 minutes left, Dick, just deal with it," came her terse reply. Dick slouched slightly in his chair. This didn't make sense, this couldn't be right. He leaned over and pulled his bag onto the desk. He examined the contents and began seeing assignments, books, and everything else. But he hadn't started 8th grade yet, at least, he didn't think he did. Surely his mind would've come back to reality now. He pulled out books and papers and they were all 7th grade work. So was he in 7th grade still? He remembered his 13th birthday at the beginning of July. But the year was this year, but it was September. Why couldn't he remember?

He pulled out his blue and gold speedo for the swim team. He also saw the hidden compartment where his Robin costume was safely packed away. He closed his eyes and thought hard. Then he began to remember. He had failed 7th grade math. He just couldn't hack it. He'd goofed off, gotten detention. All of his homework and books were 7th grade math. Yes, of course. Practice was at 4, today is Thursday, September 18, he's 13, in 8th grade, and most importantly, Robin the Boy Wonder. He breathed deeply as he dimly heard Mrs. Saunders say he could go.

Without a moment's hesitation he swept the bag off the desk and onto his back and hustled out of the classroom. He hustled down the hallway, stealing a glance of a hall clock that read 4:06. He broke into a sprint and slid into the locker room. It was empty as practice had already started. He threw his bag on the bench by his locker and began to change. He took off the blue blazer and folded it neatly before unbuttoning the white oxford shirt and yanking off the blue/gold striped tie. Now bare-chested, he undid the belt, left it in the loops, and kicked off his black dress shoes and pulled the pants off. He folded the pants on top of his other clothes, now clad in red trunks and his dress socks only. He paused as he looked at the red trunks. The dream, the horrifically vivid dream of Alfred spanking him rushed through his mind. It had been so real. And the dream before that, of Harley, the goons, what she had said, what she claimed to know. 

He shook his head and slipped off his black socks. Without looking around, he also pulled off the red trunks and hastily pulled the blue and gold speedo on, tucking his soft cock comfortably inside and such to where it created the most sizable bulge he could manage. He then walked through the locker room and out to the indoor pool. He tried to ignore the look from the coach who knew he'd been in detention as he dove into the pool and began his workout. 

90 minutes later, Dick stood in line with the other 8th grade boys as the coach told them about their upcoming meet. After they were dismissed, Dick saw the coach look at him and point back to the pool. Dick had been 9 minutes late which meant 9 laps. Dick pursed his lips and nodded. He turned around and dove back into the pool. He was so tired from practice and felt even more tired as if he hadn't slept well in days. Eventually he finished the extra work and grabbed the edge of the pool. He was breathing hard and holding on, waiting a second before hoisting himself back up and out. 

As he caught his breath, he opened his eyes and saw the sneakers of the coach standing about 3 feet from the edge. He looked up, his brown hair matted against his forehead, and saw the coach looking quite perturbed. 

"This is 4th detention this month, Grayson," the coach said. 

"I know, I'm really sorry. It's math and I just..."

"I didn't ask for excuses," the coach interrupted. "I don't care who you live with or if you're the best swimmer on the team, you need to do better."

"You're right, I'm sorry, sir," Dick replied and hoisted his small body out of the water. His smooth body shone as the water cascaded down him. The pool area was deserted as he walked slowly back to the locker room. He pulled the heavy door open and didn't hear the normal sounds of the boys roughhousing in the shower area. All he could hear was the faint dripping sound of the shower nozzles having recently been used. He didn't realize how long it'd taken him to finish his extra laps. 

He grabbed his towel and walked into the shower area. He hung the towel on the outside and turned on the nearest nozzle. It felt so good to have the warm water cover his smooth body after the cold pool. He stood with his head against the shower wall as the water fell on his almost-naked body. Dick was one of the few who still showered with his speedo on. Wanting to get home to the mansion as soon as possible to start shedding the memories of this day, he turned off the water. He turned around and bumped into the large body of the coach.

"Oh, coach, sorry," Dick said hastily. "I didn't see you."

The coach didn't say a word. Dick then realized that the older man was naked. The coach was in his early 60's, in decent shape but not able to workout as he used to. Dark gray hair covered his pale body and Dick was slightly repulsed at the sight. The coach's cock, at least 7 or 8 inches and thick, was sticking straight out and hard as a rock. Dick was lost for words. He was frozen as the coach's massive hands went to Dick's shoulders. 

"Get on your knees, boy. I know this is what you like."

Dick looked terrified and confused at the same time as the coach easily pushed Dick to his small knees. Fisting the wet brown hair of the confused boy, the coach shoved his dick into the teen's mouth. Dick gagged and choked as the coach began to fuck his mouth hard and fast. Dick couldn't believe what was happening. This couldn't be real. This had to be fake. But if this was a dream, why couldn't he wake up? And why was the feeling so real? How would he know what it's like to suck a dick? His mind raced and contorted as the coach continued his assault. 

Dick tried to push away, but despite his slight tone, he was no match for the burly coach. Eventually the coach moaned and some hot liquid hit the back of Dick's throat. There was something about it that was familiar, but Dick didn't know what it was. The coach released his hair and Dick spit the white liquid onto the wet shower floor. Dick was on all fours as he coughed and spit the substance out. However, his ordeal wasn't over. The coach grabbed another fistful of Dick's hair and pulled, dragging Dick's small body across the locker room floor. Dick screamed in the hope that someone would hear and intervene, but no one came.

The coach pulled Dick all the way to his locker where his bag and uniform lay. The coach sat down on the bench as Dick lay on the floor on his back. The coach looked down at the groaning and confused teenager and smiled. He then straddled Dick, his large naked body dwarfing Dick's, and pulled down Dick's speedo, revealing his small cock which was half-hard. The coach smiled at what he saw and Dick looked down his body in utter confusion. Then, the coach dove onto Dick's fledgling erection and began to suck. Dick threw his head back against the floor and moaned loudly. He had never felt anything that good before. The coach expertly worked Dick's cock into a full erection, rolling Dick's smooth balls in his hand while he did so. Dick began to thrust upward into the coach's mouth before he cried out and he felt an odd feeling in his lower abdomen. The coach seemed to suck something out of Dick before releasing his softening cock. Dick's head rolled side to side as the world seemed to spin.

The coach then reached into Dick's bag, the sound of which brought Dick back to reality. Before he knew what was happening, the coach put the black banded mask of Robin the Boy Wonder over Dick's head. 

"As if I didn't know, Robin," the coach said with a wicked grin.

Dick hit the ground hard as he rolled off the couch. He was breathing hard and staring up at the ceiling of the living room in Wayne manor. He'd fallen off the couch he liked to nap on in the afternoons during the summer. 

"Are you alright, Master Dick?" came the polite voice of Alfred. The sound of the butler's voice made Dick jump, not because it surprised him, but because of the most recent memory, albeit a dream, that he had. 

"We're here," came a gruff voice over a radio.

"Copy that suga'!" Harley squealed back. She looked down at the unconscious Boy Wonder. She had removed his cape and cut it up for her own use. Part of it she'd fashioned into a gag that was now around the sleeping boy's mouth. Another part she'd fashioned into a rope that was tied around his ankles just above his green pixie boots with enough length to allow him to hobble along. She smiled as she watched his closed, masked eyes dart around wildly. She knew that sleeping powder of the Joker's was a potent thing. She only wished she could be inside his head to watch his young mind slowly break. 


	3. Chapter 3

Robin jolted awake, yet again. His mind had been on a continual loop from one dream to the next, each seemingly so real that despite the numerous amount of times it'd now happened, every time seemed like the end. Every time had enough reality that his mind thought it was finally finished. That partly led to the torture. The other part was how every dream seemed to mix in things that Robin seemingly had never done before, yet he was not only able to experience as if it was real, but in some instances, even enjoy it. He had just had another dream involving Bruce. This was the most intense yet. They had both been overpowered by the Joker and unmasked on live television. Batman was then drugged by the Joker so he followed the Joker's every command, and proceeded to first spank Robin on live television, but then Robin was forced to suck his massive cock as well. It was real. It felt so real. And then Robin mercifully awoke again, but this time was different. Every other time, the dreams started out normal and safe. He was somewhere he would normally sleep. This time was different. 

Robin struggled on the floor of the back of the truck. His gloved hands were secured in his own batcuffs, a gag made from his own cape was secured around his mouth as well as around his ankles. He was staring through his mask at Harley Quinn who looked positively delighted he was awake. 

"Welcome back, puddin'! Did you enjoy your little dreams?" she asked shrilly. 

Robin stared back silently. He had to be dreaming again. This isn't real. This better not be real. 

"I know it was only a 15 minute nap, but I'm sure you enjoyed it and you probably needed it!" she added, pinching his smooth cheek and causing him to pull away as best he could with fire in his eyes. She surveyed his expression and noticed he seemed a bit calm. She then smiled more broadly. "Oh, this time it's real, puddin'," she said, almost like a growl. "Think hard, little bird. What was the first dream you had? Was it being caught by me? Was it being spanked by me? Think hard, Dickie," she said. 

The sound of his name coming out of his mouth caused him to go white. Despite the numerous dreams he'd had, he could remember each one in vivid detail. She was right. That's where it all started. He focused again on her as she snapped her fingers in his masked face which had glazed over in thought.

"Come back to me, Dickie," she said. She was holding a small canister. "This is the potent stuff. It's a knockout gas of Mr. J's which he had some help from Scarecrow developing. It causes the person to have numerous dreams in a short time, each more real than the last, and each involving certain elements that are repressed memories and their deepest fears and desires. I gave you a small dose. A bigger one and you'll wake up without any concept of reality. At least, that's what the nice doctors say," she said. She held the can to Dick's face and he recoiled in fear. "That's more like it," she said, watching the teenager cower. "I like my heroes scared."

The truck halted suddenly and Robin's bound body rolled slightly with the motion. 

"Up we go!" she said. She put the canister out of sight and hauled up Robin by grabbing him under his arms. It felt weird for him to not have his utility belt around his narrow waist. Also, without his cape, he felt more exposed than ever, even though he still wore his mask, boots, gloves, briefs, shirt, vest, and tights. The back of the truck opened and Robin immediately tried to get his bearings, but everything was nondescript. He couldn't even tell if it was the standard villain warehouse or not. 

Two massive goons reached up and grabbed one arm each, pulling the Boy Wonder out of the truck. His boots hit the ground and they barely let him get settled before perp-walking him into the hideout. Robin shuffled along as best as he could with his ankles secured by a length of his cape. They passed numerous goons, some who chuckled, others simply smiled at the sight of the young sidekick captured and gagged. Harley hadn't come with them and there was no sign of the Joker. 

This didn't seem right. Something was off. Every time Batman and Robin were captured by a villain, there was a show, a slow-moving death trap, fanfare, something! Even with massive operations which they've broken up several times seemingly bigger than this one, they were still the center of attention. It wasn't that Robin wanted to be, but now he felt like an accessory, a spare part. Something that was tacked on to something else. Most goons seemed to ignore them, although every one looked at Robin in a way that made him involuntarily shudder. This didn't seem right. Was he still dreaming? Was Harley lying? He couldn't say for sure anymore. 

They walked Robin through a labyrinth of corridors. He had tried to remember but he couldn't focus that well. The gas had made him slightly groggy still. Eventually they came to a big steel door. They opened it and there was a row of what appeared to be standard jail cells, about 5 on both sides of the corridor. At the end of the corridor was just a wall, so just the one way in. The cells were surrounded by thick and very close-together steel bars on three sides and then solid concrete on the back side. Each had a standard door on the front and within each cell was a metal toilet/sink combination and a military-style cot with no mattress or pillow or blankets. The place was totally empty. 

The goons walked Robin to the last cell on the right for some reason (all were empty so it seemed unusual). They opened the door and Robin heard them unlock the Batcuffs (apparently Harley had grabbed the key when she fished them out which he kept in the next compartment over in is belt). They then untied the cape from his ankles and removed the gag. Despite this, Robin chose not to make noise. His baser instincts had taken over and self-preservation was now very high on his list and he was no match for these goons without his belt and in his current condition. 

"Get in," they growled. Robin had expected to be shoved in. There was something far-more defeating about walking into your own jail cell, which is probably what they wanted. Robin swallowed hard and walked inside the small cell. They slammed the door shut and locked it, walking out of the area without another word. Robin looked around the cell and then the rest of the jail area. The silence was deafening. He in his remaining costume was the only source of color in the steel, metal, and concrete world he now inhabited. 

He first went to the bars to see if he could slip through. He was, despite his tone, still skinny. However, these bars were far too close together. He grabbed the bars on the door with his gloved hands and shook them, seeing how secure it was. It didn't even seem to rattle on its hinges. 

He sat down on the uncomfortable cot and waited. He waited for something he knew not what. Something had to happen. If this was another dream, someone would be along to spank him or force him to suck a dick or suck his dick or something. That was every dream now apparently. The absurdity of the thought actually made Robin smile. These things that had never happened to him now seemed like they had to happen for the world to move forward. 

But no one came. Nothing happened. Robin laid back on the cot, putting his gloved hands behind his head and staring up at the concrete ceiling. There was a voice in his head. It was Bruce. He could hear it clearly now as he stared holes into the gray mass above him. 

"Physical pain ends, torture will end. You must be willing to accept that death will end it in order to preserve the truths you fight for. If you cannot accept this, then we're done here," Bruce's voice said sternly. They stood in the Batcave, three years ago. A 10-year-old Dick Grayson, clad in his new Robin costume, held the banded mask in his gloved hands. "Can you accept that?" Batman asked the young boy who desired nothing more than to be his sidekick to rid the world of crime. 

"Yes," Dick replied flatly. He looked into Batman's dark, cowled eyes with conviction as he put the mask on his head. 

"Then you're ready for anything they can throw at you," Batman said, extending his hand. Robin shook it as firmly as a 10-year-old could. 

Back in the cell, Robin's eyes slowly closed at this memory and real sleep overcame him. 

"Ready for anything," Robin whispered to himself in the empty space as he drifted off to sleep. 


	4. Chapter 4

There was little-to-no sound in the large, cavernous room. A slight squeak and creak as the chain moved gently side to side, and if it hadn't made a sound, you'd almost not even see it move. The hum of machines could be heard in the distance. A few feet off the cold, hard floor, a pair of green pixie boots was bound together. The ankles of the Boy wonder were encased in leather cuffs for strength. His tights-covered legs were together thanks to the bond at his ankles. His cape was gone, his red vest was gone, and most importantly for him, his utility belt was gone as well. His green shirt, made of the same flexible material as his briefs for maneuverability, was no match for his weight and gravity. His small body was stretched so that the shirt had long-since become untucked, exposing an inch or two of his hairless midriff. Above his head, his gloved hands were also secured in leather cuffs and a thick chain disappeared into the darkness above. His masked blue eyes were closed, which really didn't matter because a white blindfold was wrapped around his head anyway. 

"Ready to talk?" came a gruff voice in the darkness.

Robin winced his eyes behind the blindfold. He'd been hanging like this for what seemed to be hours. His shoulders were in a lot of pain and it wasn't very easy to breathe, but his mind was focused. Sleep would've made it so much easier to endure, but he had been given a stimulant to keep him from sleeping. 

"And what shall we talk about?" came Robin's cheeky reply. 

"Don't be cute, kid. You know what information we want," came the humorless reply. 

Robin's blindfolded face smiled as he tried to distract himself from the pain. 

"Remind me again? We've been at this for oh-so-long and I'm not always good at remembering things," Robin said with a grin. 

His bravado was met with a hard punch into his stretched torso. The fist connected with the exposed skin and made a slapping sound as bare knuckle met bare skin. Robin grunted in pain as what little air he could retain was evacuated from his lungs. 

"Where is the Batcave?" came the reply as Robin swung slowly from the momentum of the punch. 

"Oh, right, that," Robin coughed as he slowly swung like a pendulum. "You know, geography was never my strong suit. Plus, it's kinda hard to think right now."

"Little bird in pain?" came the voice. 

"More like a little bored, to be honest," Robin replied, flexing his gut and showing his exposed burgeoning abdominal muscles as he braced for another punch that never came. 

"Perhaps you need some more blood in your head to think," the voice growled. 

"That outta do it," Robin replied matter-of-factly. 

He heard the sound of a chain moving and his ankles were pulled slightly up and forward and then suspended there as they were attached to a chain the same way as his wrists were. Then there was the sound of the chains moving and his ankles began to rise. At the same time, his wrists began to lower as if the chains were on a circular track. When he realized what was happening, his ankles were slightly higher than his head.

"Nifty toy you have here," Robin remarked as the chains kept moving. That comment earned him a hard slap on his exposed ass, which due to his current contortion, was on full display in the tight green briefs. Robin yelped at the sensation. 

Eventually his wrists were detached from their chain and he now hung upside down, his arms hanging below his head now and a few feet off the floor. Robin's head started to ache as the blood rushed to it. Luckily, his form-fitting shirt didn't fall down about his head, exposing him even more, since it clung to his frame. Robin felt a large hand on his bottom and heard the growl in his ear.

"Any other comments you'd like to make?"

"No, I think I'm good for right now," Robin said, trying his best not to antagonize him. 

"Good boy," the voice said, patting his ass twice. 

There was the sound of another set of approaching steps and some metallic tray being set on a table. 

"Now really, this is too much," came the disapproving voice of Alfred. 

"What?" Bruce asked. 

"Yeah, what?" Dick replied, twisting his body slightly and causing it to swing a bit. 

"Enough for today," Alfred said flatly. The sound of chains moving again had Dick slowly lowered to the ground. His body laid itself out as Bruce unlocked the cuffs and removed the blindfold. Dick's masked eyes blinked in the dim light of the Batcave. He got to his feet slowly, allowing everything to readjust. Alfred was looking very perturbed as he laid out tea for Bruce and hot chocolate for Dick. Dick rubbed his wrists slightly and stretched his arms. 

"How are you feeling?" Bruce asked, giving Dick a brief shoulder massage. 

"Better. My mind is focused more and it's easier if I'm a little bit of a smart aleck."

"Don't overdo it, though," Bruce warned. "You're a bit too good at it and someone is going to let you have it if you're not careful."

"Is that what the spank was for?" Dick asked, stepping away from Bruce's hands and turning to smile with a raised eyebrow. 

"It was a tempting target," Bruce winked back.

"Oooooo Bruce thinks I have a tempting butt," Dick sang in a mocking tone. Bruce took a swing but Dick was too quick and dodged it, getting out of range. The 12-year-old sidekick grinned as he walked towards the table. Alfred was waiting now with his red vest, cape, and belt. Dick hastily tucked the shirt back into his briefs, making sure to avoid tucking it into his tights. He'd made that mistake once and would never live it down. He put his arms into the vest and turned around as Alfred zipped it up. Alfred then draped the short, yellow cape over his shoulders and Dick clasped it before clicking on his belt. 

"Honestly, Master Bruce, I don't know why you torture this poor child," Alfred said as Dick, now fully dressed in his Robin costume, sipped his hot chocolate. 

"I'm not a child!" Dick retorted. 

"With all due respect, Master Dick," Alfred cooed, "you're only 12 years old. You are a child."

"He fights crime, Alfred," Bruce replied sternly. "He's a target and needs to know how to deal with the physical pain someone might put him through to learn the secrets he knows."

"Maybe you should just focus on fighting skills and he'll never be captured," Alfred said with a raised eyebrow. 

"Dick's already a great fighter for someone his size and age. But villains are tricky and my experience has been that they want to kill me or ruin me. For Dick, he's the gateway. They won't want to kill him if they get their hands on him. They'll want the information he has and he needs to know how to deal with long bouts of physical pain."

Dick sipped his beverage as the two spoke as if he wasn't standing right there. He smiled as Bruce continued to defend him, their training, and his prowess at fighting crime. As he continued to sip, the memory faded into mist and reality set back in. 

Robin groaned in pain as the cuffs retracted again. His young body was being stretched beyond what he thought was possible on the polished metal table. The table sat at a 45 degree angle. Robin's booted feet were cuffed and shoulder-width apart. They rested on a small ledge on the table that stopped his body from sliding down. However, the cuffs on his ankles kept him anchored from going up which is where his wrists continued to go. Every 10 minutes, his wrists, also shoulder-width apart, were pulled higher. For the last few pulls, Robin was sure his shoulders were going to separate. Or maybe they already had and this is what it felt like. 

There were two large medical-type lights shining on the table. Not that those really bothered him because a blindfold had been placed around his masked eyes. Unlike in the training session his mind had wandered back to, his vest was still on. However, just like the memory, his form-fitting shirt had sprung out of his briefs where it was always tucked. 

He had enjoyed that journey into his past. It gave him renewed focus and energy that he'd been trained for scenarios just like this one. However, the training sessions with Bruce never lasted more than a few hours at most, and they were few and far between because they were always out fighting crime. This had been going on for days now. At least, he thought it had been days. He hadn't seen the outdoors in quite some time and so he'd lost all sense of the days. When he'd awoken in the truck and Harley had told him it had only been a few minutes, but the dreams had felt like hours, he didn't discount the fact that he'd only been...wherever he was, for a few hours. 

Those thoughts didn't keep a lot of traction in his young, but well-trained mind. He'd been here for awhile. He knew it. Even if the reality wasn't pretty, he needed to keep a grasp of something. 

The cycle seemed to be rather mechanical. He'd been collected from the cell they put him in, his wrists cuffed behind him but his ankles not, blindfolded, and then marched through what seemed like a maze of corridors to what was probably the same room, unless they had multiple torture tables. Each time he was secured to the table, no one said a word, and then he was stretched, slowly but surely. The pain was excruciating, and sometimes he would cry out at a stretch and others just make faces as he tried to endure it. Otherwise, no other sounds were made. He wasn't asked any questions nor did he ask any questions. Then, just when he thought he would crack, the table retracted. His weak body was cradled by someone quite large and strong and he was carried back to his cell. He was uncuffed and then tossed in. By the time he would get his blindfold off, the cell block was empty. 

When the goons came in for round six, Robin had tried an escape. He'd taken the previous five blindfolds and tied them together into a makeshift band. Playing weak, they came into his cell when he wouldn't stand up to be cuffed, and when they grabbed his arms, he whipped out the band of blindfolds and sprung onto the back of the nearest goon, wrapping the blindfolds around him like a choker. He kicked the other with his boot when he tried to pry Robin off, but the momentary lapse in strength allowed the first goon to reach around and flip Robin over and onto his back and onto the floor. Robin groaned in pain and feared the retribution, but they simply cuffed him, blindfolded him, and the cycle repeated. 

Robin's reminiscing was cut short by the sound of the cuffs retracting again. Pain rifled down his right arm, through his shoulder, down his side and all the way into his pixie boot. Whatever it was made him cry out in pain and pent-up frustration. 

"What do you want?!" Robin cried out, his masked eyes closed tightly in pain beneath the blindfold. 

From out of the darkness of Robin's covered eyes came a menacing laugh, a laugh that belonged to only one person.

"Who had 9? 9 sessions? Anyone? Anyone? Ah we have a winner winner Robin dinner!" the voice cried out with glee. The blindfold was pulled off of Robin's face and he blinked in the bright light of the two medical-grade lights that shone on the table. The cuffs had retracted to where his body was simply stretched to its normal limit and nothing more. The Joker's wicked grin greeted Robin who gulped reactively. 

"Congratulations, Boy Blunder, you lasted 9 sessions of simple physical torture before breaking!"

"What are you talking about?" Robin asked, angry and confused, struggling in his cuffs but moving very little. "I didn't break!"

"Oh but you, did, boy, you did. For you see, the breaking point was when you would demand to know why you are here in the first place. I must admit you lasted far longer than I would've thought. You and the Bat are always curious as to why we villains do what we do, but you seemed to be rather content to be tortured!" the Joker said with curiosity and mild glee. "But then again, unlike in the past, I have a leg-up on you and old Batsy."

"What do you mean?" Robin asked, furrowing his brow. 

"I mean I already know your secret identities!" Joker said, laughing maniacally. Robin's masked face blanched at hearing those words come out of the Joker's mouth. So the Harley incident wasn't a dream...

"Oh Dickie, if only you could see your face. If only Bruce were here to comfort you!" Joker said, barely able to form the words because he was laughing so hard. All color was now drained from Robin's face as his real name came out of the Joker's mouth. 

"Oh that's right, you don't remember!" Joker said, all of his yellow teeth showing with his wide smile. "Well, if you need a quick refresher, I recommend going to read 'So Many Precious Secrets' by Robinstories. It's quite the page turner!" Joker said. Robin looked more confused than ever. 

"Oops, sorry, I just shattered the fourth wall. Well no matter. Long story short, I discovered who you were by chance and you and I had some fun on a rooftop not too long ago. It was there that I not only learned your true identity, but that, well, how do I put this delicately," the Joker said, putting a finger to his chin and then leaning in too close to Robin's face, "you're quite the dirty bird."

Ignoring, or at least trying to ignore everything said up until this point, Robin tried to refocus. 

"You never answered my question," he said. "What do you want?"

The Joker slapped Robin hard across the face. 

"I forgot how good it felt to slap that pretty little face of yours, boy brat," Joker said smiling as Robin winced in pain. "Always trying to change the subject. Little boys these days are so flighty and can't stay on topic!" Joker said. Robin's face burned at the 'little boy' comment. "Very well. I'll let you in on my diabolical plan since that's what the hero always wants because normally he can stop it. You, of course, cannot. When Harley called and said that you'd tried to stop my little side operation and that she had you gassed, I told her to bring you in. After our encounter on the roof, I couldn't really stop thinking about you, about your body, about your potential, about all of the possibilities that had never crossed my very normal and not-crazy-at-all mind before. So I decided, yes I decided that quickly because I'm oh-so-smart and not insane, that she should bring you in. That way I can once and for all, finally, with all the fanfare it deserves, break you."

The last two words were said with such a low growl that Robin gulped again. However, he regained his young composure and tensed his 13-year-old body, still cuffed to the table. 

"Good luck," Robin said, glaring at the Joker. The Joker smiled as wide as ever. 

"Oh, my dear Boy Wonder, I won't need luck, because the way I'm going to break you is a way dear old Bruce never thought to train you."

Before Robin could react, he got a face full of purple gas. The same gas Harley had gassed him with initially. Just before he passed out, he recognized it. 

"NO!" he cried as the gas overcame him and he fell asleep. In his mind, the dreams began immediately and once again he was lost to the inner recesses of his mind at the mercy of Joker's gas. 

Meanwhile, the Joker sat down in a chair on the far side of the room as the goons began to remove every piece of Robin's costume, including his mask. 


	5. Chapter 5

When Robin finally awoke, he once again assumed it was another dream. They had been so vivid, so real, and many times, so frightening. Every time he thought it was a dream, his mind turned it into reality, only to turn it back into a dream as the supposed reality shifted. As he blinked slowly, he saw large medical lights shining down on him and the Joker's face staring back at him. 

"Rise and shine, Dickie," Joker said smiling. He was wearing green doctor scrubs over his pale purple suit. On the other side of the table, Harley Quinn, wearing a skimpy nurse outfit with a surgical mask, squealed with joy. "And don't worry, you're back to the land of reality, although, I'm sure that in no time you'll be wishing it was another one of your lurid dreams." Robin didn't know what lurid meant, so the comment didn't register. 

As he slowly regained consciousness, he tensed his limbs and body, trying to subtly gauge his predicament. He was lying flat, no doubt on the same metallic table as before. He was remembering now more clearly. However, he felt cold, colder than before. He could feel the metal in places that he knew he shouldn't be able to feel it. His maskless blue eyes went wide and, abandoning all stealth, gasped and raised his head to look down at the rest of his body. He was fully naked on the metal exam table in Joker's lab. His feet were spread now further than shoulder-width apart and his arms, too, were spread wide, putting him in more of a traditional spread-eagled positions. His wrists and ankles were cuffed in metal restraints and a thin, but strong leather strap was across his lower waist, between his navel and his pubic area, which kept his torso flat on the table. Despite the fact it wasn't metal, it gave Robin almost no movement. Robin did struggle, but the only significant movement, much to his chagrin, was his small, soft cock flopping a bit from side to side. 

"Joker, you sick, sick fiend! Why did you remove my costume?!" Robin asked furiously, his voice high and terrified. 

"Because, my dear Dickie, when we met on the roof you were so obliging to remove it all for me, except of course for your mask. But that was because I'd already seen you without it. Now it's gone because I'm a jerk," Joker said with a wicked smile. 

"I would never remove my costume for anyone, especially low life criminals like you!" Robin shot back. 

"Well I suppose the word 'obliging' is rather loosely defined. You did do it yourself, but that was only because if you didn't do what I commanded, I would rat you out to all of Gotham. And Brucie too, of course," Joker said. Robin couldn't remember any of this. 

"Oh the fun we had that warm, summer night," Joker said, looking off into the distance and pretending to be nostalgic. "I laughed, I laughed at you, I spanked, you got spanked, you sucked, I sucked. Such a glorious time to be alive," he said, gazing at Harley with fake misty eyes who returned them with a laugh of her own. "And then, all with the promise of you using your little amnesia gas on me, you indulged my desires for the view I now behold once again. But of course, I never keep my word and instead, blew the can of gas in your face. However, as I'm sure your trips to dreamland have shown you, you never fully forget. That's why your dreams are no-doubt filled with various forms of the exploits of that night."

Robin's head spun as he thought about what the Joker was saying. It was certainly possible, all of it, but he couldn't remember at all. But if what the Joker was saying about the gas was true and he'd gotten a dose of it, he'd never remember. 

"But enough of a jaunt down memory lane, we must return to the matter at hand!" Joker said, sounding determined. He pulled up a surgical mask of his own and snapped on a pair of latex gloves. He put his hands on his hips and began to survey Robin's naked body. "Hmmm...I can't seem to find anything. Nurse! Binoculars!" 

"Here you go Docta J!" Harley said as she handed him a pair of comically large binoculars. The Joker put them to his eyes and began to 'search' Robin's body for something.

"Hmmm...I can't seem to find any signs of puberty anywhere on this specimen!" Joker said, holding the binoculars very close to Robin's naked flesh. He ran them down his arms, over his smooth armpits, across his chest, down his hairless legs to his feet, and finally back up. "Oh wait, what's this?! Hair ho!" Joker said like some explorer who had finally found what he was searching for. He threw the binoculars behind him and they crashed to the floor with a loud clatter. "It's small, but we've got something," Joker said, pointing to the small patch of pubic hair that adorned Robin's soft cock. 

Robin's face burned red and his young muscles tensed angrily as the Joker looked him over and mocked his lack of development. 

"Now, Batsy has no doubt taught you to withstand pain. After all, it took 9 sessions on the torture rack for you to even ask what we wanted! Harley, my dear, what do we want?" Joker asked, standing up straight and looking across the table. 

"Hmmm...good question Docta J. What do we want with a little pipsqueak like this? We already know who he is and who Batsy is," Harley mused, putting a finger to her chin and pretending to think. "Oh I know! What about the location of the Batcave! That would be handy!"

"Good thinking, nurse Quinn," Joker said seriously. "Well, Dickie my boy, where is the Batcave?" Joker asked, sounding very professional and serious. Robin glared at him and if looks could kill, Joker's body would be splattered all over the ceiling. 

"The patient seems to be unable to speak. We'll have to fix that. Nurse!" Joker said professionally, holding out a latex glove. Harley put something into his palm that Robin couldn't see. "Nurse, restrain the patient!" Joker said. Robin didn't know what that could mean since he was already restrained. But Harley nodded and walked behind Robin's head and placed a strap across his forehead, now completely restricting his vision to only the lights and ceiling above him. 

"Ah yes, I believe I've found the problem that's causing his silence!" Joker said. He was leaning close to Robin's pubic area as if he was inspecting it. He took a long inhale of the slight musk that was emanating from it. Suddenly, pain shot through Robin's body. It was sharp and focused near his groin. He cried out in surprise and pain. 

"Got one!" Joker said, holding his right hand aloft in triumph. Robin could now see that the Joker held a pair of tweezers. Joker brought them near to Robin's restrained head and Robin could see a small hair held in them. "Look at this, boy wonder, a rare specimen! Not many of them down there so a find like this is really incredible!" Joker said, no doubt smiling under his surgical mask. "Nurse!" Joker cried. Harley held out a small ziploc bag and Joker carefully deposited the hair inside of it. After he did, he looked at Robin expectantly, but Robin just glared back at him. 

Joker leaned down and plucked another one, causing another yelp from Robin even though he was prepared. The same process repeated itself, each time the Joker depositing the hair, or in some very painful cases, hairs, into the same little bag. Robin held back tears as the Joker plucked his pubic hairs with the tweezers. He didn't realize how painful it would be nor how embarrassing. 

"Hmmm..." Joker said finally. 

"What is it Docta?" Harley asked, faking concern. 

"It appears as if they're all gone!" Joker said. "And he still won't talk! Wait, wait, I found one more!" Joker said. He gleefully disappeared out of Robin's eyesight and Robin screamed in pain and the tears began to flow. Joker had plucked a hair from his balls, which Robin was unaware he even had any on them. 

"Aw, it appears the patient is in distress," Harley said as Joker deposited the hair in the bag. Robin was breathing quickly, trying to stop the tears. 

"Well, luckily for him, that was the only one there, so luckily he's all free of those nasty things," Joker said, acting like he was doing Robin a favor. "I've got to go wash up. Take the patient to recovery." Joker said, leaving the area without another word. Robin was confused as he'd assumed the torture would continue. However, he was uncuffed and unstrapped from the table and two goons cuffed his hands behind him and blindfolded him before leading him back to his cell. Robin could hear the snickers and laughter of the goons they passed before he was pushed back in his cell and uncuffed. The blindfold was also taken and Robin was left totally naked. He looked down and whimpered uncontrollably. His pubic area was completely smooth but a nasty shade of red. He sat down on the cot and put his maskless face in his hands. All he could do was try to refocus, but Bruce had never prepared him for things quite like this, and he knew it was only beginning. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! This chapter contains very graphic depictions of the torture of a minor. If that offends you, don't read it. Also, why are you reading this at all???

It was a restless sleep for the Boy Wonder, who lay completely naked, plucked of all of his pubic hair, on the rather uncomfortable cot in his cell. In another room, unbeknownst to Robin, was a bank of monitors, each one showing a different angle of the sleeping sidekick. There were hidden cameras all over the cell, some so small that it would've seemed impossible for them to be hidden where they were. In front of the bank of monitors was a large wingback chair. In it sat the Joker, who simply stared silently at the sleeping teenager. His normally loud and sporadic mind was now quiet and focused as he watched one of his goons enter the area to wake up the Boy Wonder. 

Robin groaned as he heard the cell door open. The routine was something he wished he'd not become used to. Goon opens door, Robin wakes up, gets cuffed and blindfolded, gets tortured, gets walked back, and repeat. The only difference now, apparently, was that Robin was naked. 

As Robin regained his consciousness, he naturally put his bare hands over his soft, smooth groin. He rolled to his side and off the bed, standing up and staring at the massive thug, enjoying the brief modesty his hands provided him before they were inevitably cuffed behind him. There was something different, however, with the goon's demeanor. It indicated to the teenager that something was different or was about to become different. 

The goon produced something from a satchel hanging from his thick waist and held it up and out towards Robin. Robin stared at it blankly before realizing what it was. It was a mask, but not a mask like his. His original mask was made of a flexible fabric that fit snugly around his whole head. This was a domino mask. Leaving one hand covering his private area, Robin reached out and took it. He moved it around in the one hand to examine it. It was made of a solid material, possibly carbon fiber, on the outside. The inside was a soft, mesh-like material that actually felt very comfortable in Robin's hand. He raised the mask up to his face with the one hand and put it over his eyes. He felt the mesh-like material adhere to his face. It didn't hurt at all. In fact it felt really comfortable even compared to Robin's old mask. He blinked his blue eyes as he looked out at the goon. Oddly enough, having his eyes masked again felt as if he was almost fully clothed again, but his hands stayed where they were. 

That didn't last long, though, as the goon made a twirling motion with his finger. Robin sighed as he knew that this meant and turned around, putting his hands behind him after he'd turned, clinging to the last bit of modesty. There was a long pause before he heard a click of the cuffs and felt the familiar cold steel on his wrists. He didn't really notice or care that the added time was due to the goon staring at the perfectly shaped orbs that created Robin's smooth, tight, virginal ass. He turned around because the goon hand put a burly hand on his naked shoulder and moved Robin in the motion of turning around. The goon then stared down at the soft, hairless cock that hung between Robin's small, lean legs. Robin's masked face burned but he gritted his teeth and did everything he could not to simply burst into tears. 

That was until he saw the last thing to come out of the satchel. It was a kelly green metal ring. A yellow 'R' was stenciled onto the side of it. Robin looked at it confused until the goon opened the ring and put it around Robin's neck so the yellow 'R' was on the front. It was a collar. It fit tightly around Robin's neck, very much as if it was tailored to his exact specifications. The coldness of the metal made his naked body shiver slightly and his face burned moreso. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was when the goon affixed a leash to it. The leash was a strong magnet, so it could be affixed to any part of the collar. Then, the goon produced a small remote and pushed a button. Slats immediately flipped down from apparently inside of the mask and covered Robin's eyes. They were made of the same material on the inside and out and Robin's world once again went black. The mask was now a blindfold. 

He felt a tug on the leash and immediately resisted. He was hoping to pull the magnet off. His baser instincts took over. It was one thing to be marched through a hideout filled with goons, but it was much worse to be walked through it like a dog. Robin resisted and absent-mindedly broke his silent-routine as well.

"No!" he cried out instinctively. He didn't see the remote come out again or see the goon push another button. What he did feel was a surge of electricity that went through the collar and spread throughout his naked body in a flash. He screamed bloody murder at the pain, his voice high and cracking. His knees buckled and his whole body shook as he collapsed onto the floor of the cell, shaking and twitching. Luckily there was apparently enough slack in the leash so that when Robin fell, he didn't choke himself while the goon held the leash. 

Then, just as suddenly, the pain stopped. Robin's naked body twitched slightly as he whimpered on the floor in a heap. 

"You can walk like a dog or I will drag you like a dog," the goon said, pulling hard on the leash. Pain shot through Robin's neck as the leash choked him and his body slid a few feet out of the cell and into the hallway of the cell block.

"No, please!" Robin cried as the sliding stopped. He coughed and sputtered as he slowly managed to get to his feet. It wasn't easy with his hands cuffed behind him and his body still giving an occasional twitch. "I'll walk," he said, trying to catch his breath and staring into the darkness of his mask-turned-blindfold. 

Without another word, he felt a jerk on the leash and began to follow the goon as best as he could. He just walked straight and slowly (the goon was apparently in no hurry) and changed directions based on the pull of the leash. He did end up hitting one wall, but luckily it wasn't hard. The laughs and jeers of the unknown goons they passed were much louder and more frequent at the sight of the masked Boy Wonder, fully naked and led by a leash. 

Into another unknown room he was led and the leash was removed and his hands were uncuffed. He was lifted easily onto yet another cold, metal table. His mask remained a blindfold and the collar remained on. His wrists were put into leather cuffs above his head, extending his arms fully but not stretched. His feet were put through an apparatus that had two metallic cords, horizontal and about 8 inches apart. They were suspended by two rods on either side of the table. Then Robin's ankles were secured into cuffs, but cuffs on short chains that allowed him to raise and lower his legs quite a bit. He felt the cold metal cord that his legs were resting on. It seemed almost elastic.

Once he was secured, he braced himself for stretching, since that had been their style so far and fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you saw it, he didn't have any hair left to pluck. He shifted slightly as best he could, staring into the blackness of his mask. Then, without warning, electricity shot through the cord his lower calves were resting on. He screamed loudly in pain and at the surprise of it. His legs naturally shot upwards off of the cord, only to hit the cord above it that Robin didn't know was there, a mere 8 inches higher. This cord, too, had electricity going through it and after another scream of pain, he suspended his legs between the cords. 

"How am I doing?" Dick called out, focusing as best he could.

"Three minutes and counting!" Bruce replied, smiling and looking at a stopwatch. They were in the gym at Wayne Manor. Dick was suspending his legs just above the ground, breathing hard. His abs were on fire but the teenager tried not to notice. Bruce watched his shirtless ward's abs constrict more and more. Dick's focus on his abs had shown some results and a faint outline could now be seen when he wasn't flexing. But now, the lean 13-year-old's abs were on full display. It was pretty impressive work for a young man. Dick cried out in pain and his legs hit the floor. 

"Almost 4 minutes," Bruce said, patting Dick's sweaty, smooth chest. "Progress is progress."

Robin's mind snapped back to reality as he focused intently on keeping his legs suspended. Every twitch could mean he could hit the cords. He couldn't see them, so all he could hope to do was to stay steady. The goons nearby watched as every young muscle was tensed on Robin's naked body as he began to shake. Then, a spasm down his right leg caused it to go slightly upwards and it connected with the cord. The surge sent more spasms through both legs and Robin's legs jerked back and forth between the two cords, creating an almost constant shock to his young body. His cries of pain shattered the otherwise silent room as he thrashed in his restraints. 

Then, suddenly the current ceased. Robin cried out in relief and his legs fell hard onto the lower cord. His smooth chest rose and fell quickly as sweat began to glisten on his hairless body. But his respite was short lived. The current began again and Robin focused again on keeping his legs suspended, but his abs were already exhausted and his legs, too, were burning from exertion. It didn't take very long for his legs to fall onto the lower cord and his body was mercilessly shocked. He flopped around on the table as every attempt to lift his legs was short-lived. 

The current then stopped again and soft whimpers could be heard now in the silent room. The inner material of the mask absorbed the tears. Robin gritted his teeth and tried to focus, but already his mind was beginning to crack. Another buzz as the current resumed and the cacophony of screams with it. Robin wasn't trying to hold back anything. He was praying for mercy, that perhaps the sounds of his utter and true agony would turn the heart of a goon and the current would shut off, but the pattern continued unabated. 

After the seventh round of shocks, Robin passed out. His limp, naked, and shackled body bounced slightly like a fish out of water as the current didn't abate. His soft cock flopped around as his unconscious body twisted and convulsed almost uncontrollably. After a minute or so of keeping the current on while he was unconscious, it stopped for good. 

Two goons unshackled the sidekick from the restraints and used towels to soak up the sweat that covered the naked hero. They removed the apparatus from the table and for a brief moment, Robin was again alone, but not unseen. Joker watched the bank of monitors that now displayed the room where Robin lay on the table, wearing his new mask and collar. 

The goons returned to the room and one cradled Robin easily in his arms (Joker noticed the unmistakable erection in the goon's pants as he did so), while the other pushed the table out of the room. In its place, he brought in a small metal chair and placed it firmly on the floor. Magnets in the floor secured the chair in place and the goon cradling the Boy Wonder placed him in the chair. Robin's masked head lolled to the side and then hung into his smooth chest. 

The goons secured Robin's wrists to arms of the chair and his ankles to the front legs. They then attached two leads, one to each of the back legs of the chair, then stood back. They both stared at Robin, sitting naked in the chair, head in his chest, before one approached and injected the boy's upper arm with a stimulant. 

Robin groaned as the adrenaline woke him from his pain-induced sleep. His masked head rolled side to side as his muscles began to tense. He could feel himself in the metal chair and the goons watched as his young muscles flexed as he tested his restraints. 

"What now?" Robin said, breaking his normal silence. There was no answer. Instead, electricity was channeled through the leads and into the chair, causing the entire chair to become a vehicle for the current. Robin cried out in pain as his body shook. There was no way he could remove himself from contact with the chair. He tried to count how long the current lasted at first, but he lost count and couldn't even focus on that. Every muscle showed in exertion as he tried to break the bonds and get out of the chair. 

On and off the current went, seemingly at random. 

"What do you want?! Please just tell me!" Robin pleaded after the 8th round of shocks. The adrenaline wouldn't allow him to pass out. However, unlike the first time he'd cracked by asking that, there was no response, just more shocks. 

It took 15 rounds before the adrenaline wore off and Robin mercifully passed out again. The smell of burnt hair hung in the air as some of the hair on Robin's head had burned from the electricity, but not many. 

The Joker watched on his monitors as once again the goons moved Robin to a new torturous position. Unlike before, he wasn't breaking up these sessions. The trials by pain needed a break. The trials by electricity and the trials that would follow do not get breaks. This allows the mind to collapse much quicker after the groundwork set by the trials by pain. 

Robin's body was placed on the table again and the chair was taken away. His wrists and ankles were shackled to the table in a spread-eagled position with tight, metallic cuffs to prevent much movement. Then a small metal ring was carefully placed over his small, soft cock and balls and rested at the base. Two wires trailed away from the ring off the table to a machine. 

Another shot of adrenaline was applied. The Joker watched and made a note. Too much adrenaline and the kid would die. He didn't necessarily mind if he did, but if he wanted to straight up murder the kid, he would've a long time ago. 

Robin groaned and felt his heart pounding as the adrenaline took over. The goon with the remote pushed a button and the slats over the mask retracted. Robin's blue eyes blinked at the brightness of the lights. 

"I wanted you to be able to see this before it happened!" came the wicked voice of the Joker over a speaker. Robin looked around for him or for anyone else, but the room was entirely empty. Only lights above him and the table were in the room.

Robin looked down his naked body and felt the tightness of the metal ring where nothing like that should ever be. He also saw the wires disappearing off the end of the table. He couldn't see the machine on the floor. 

His struggles began in earnest as he quickly put two and two together. 

"No! Please! Don't!" Robin begged. He didn't care what he had to do. He just knew that he didn't anymore shocks, especially there. 

"Begging is not what a good hero does!" Joker scolded. "Poor wittle Wobin is scared for his wittle weewee," Joker teased, laughing hysterically. 

"Just tell me what you want! Please!" Robin cried out, his head still staring at his wired groin, hoping that the ring would magically fall off. 

"Sorry, Bird Brat, not yet," Joker said. 

Robin's screams reached new levels as current flowed through the ring. He shook and convulsed uncontrollably. He'd never experienced pain quite like it. Every muscle contorted in pain even though the pain seemed almost focused in just the one spot. Unlike the last time, the current didn't shut off. It just continued as the adrenaline kept Robin from passing out and he experienced every single second of agony. His stomach contracted and he managed to turn his head to the left to avoid vomiting all over himself. Rather, it got all over the table as the rest dribbled out of his mouth. Not even that stopped it. Robin would fully empty the contents of his stomach onto the table and his upper chest and neck before finally the current shut off. Robin was still barely conscious as he felt his bladder go as well. A small puddle of urine pooled around him as he pissed himself. His cries were just hoarse whimpers now as one last shock knocked him into unconsciousness. 

"Leave him there in his own filth until he wakes up," Joker said to the two goons. "Remove the ring, but keep him restrained. When he wakes up, have him clean up his mess. If he refuses, use the collar."


End file.
